Spawn: New World
by Agent Brad Hall
Summary: Set in the New World universe. Al Simmons: Assassin. Husband. Brother. And now, making a deal with Malebolgia: Hellspawn. Now Al is one of the world's greatest heroes, who's loved by everyone. But what happens when Hell comes a'knockin? Easy, it breaks loose.
1. Chapter 1

**Intro**

He heard the gunshot first.

That's when he knew it was over.

He fell from the building which was 20 stories up, feeling his blood ooze from his body. He thought of them. Terry. Grandma Blake. Marc. Richard.

But he mostly thought of Wanda.

As his body connected with the hard pavement below only two things were on his mind: his loving wife Wanda, who'd he give anything to kiss again. And:

_Quick and painless my ass._

For about two seconds, he felt the most excruciating pain he'd ever felt from the impact. Then, he drifted off into the unknown.

_**.,...**_

Al Simmons had been an assassin for 6 years, so he knew his life was always hanging by a thread.

But, holy fuck, he wasn't expecting this.

Looking around himself, he saw that fire was everywhere. Chaotic, evil, tormenting fire.

And black.

Black fire. And it was everywhere. So, Al knew exactly where he was. He'd read about it many times in the Bible.

He was in Hell.

_Well, that's not surprising,_ Al thought to himself.

Al was an assassin. Of course he was going to Hell. But, the only thing he was questioning about was: how the hell do you pass time in...well, Hell? He wasn't asking for a ping pong tournament or anything, but a beer would definitely go a long way.

_Sorry, Mr. Simmons. No beer today,_ a voice said.

Al looked around, looking for the voice, although he knew he wouldn't find it. The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere. And nowhere at the same time.

Suddenly, a large black circle of smoke rose in front of him, and a large dark red man with horns stepped out.

"Are you Satan?" Al asked, surprised by the man's demonic appearance.

"Now, see, that's just offensive," the horned demon said, looking truly disgusted. "What if I asked you if you were Eddie Murphy?"

"But I look nothing like Eddie Murphy," Al reasoned.

"And I look nothing like Satan," the demon said. "Trust me, when you see him, it won't be a question. You'll know."

Al stayed silent. One thing was for certain, he didn't want to meet Satan.

"Al Simmons," the demon said, reading off a fiery clip board. "24 years of age, black, ooh, an assassin. I guess you belong here, don't you?"

"Fuck you," Al said, getting pissed.

"Oh no, I meant no offense," the demon said, smiling. "I could use somebody like you. Somebody trained. Somebody lethal. You see, there's going to be a war, sooner them later, between Heaven and Hell. The tension's been rising quickly between God and Satan, which is saying something, considering they're seemingly at each other's throats all the time. How'd you like to be on the winning side?"

"What are you talking about," Al asked.

"I'm offering you a job, Al. I want you to be a general, commanding Hell's army," the demon said, smiling even wider. "The Hellspawn."

"Sorry, but fighting for Hell doesn't seem like a good idea," Al said. "Find someone else."

"What if you could wed Wanda again?"

That made Al's heartbeat stop. Well, it would've, if he had a heartbeat anymore. He was stuck in this place for eternity, but, if he excepted, he could see Wanda again. But, Al wasn't dumb. He wasn't about to make a deal with the devil. Well, not the devil, but a devil. Demon.

Not without a little negotiating first.

"Do you mean I go to her on Earth, or she comes down here?"

The demon smiled even more.

"Good thinking," he said. "Most of them really fuck up on that department. You don't know how many people who were supposed to go to Heaven, came down here because someone didn't think for a good two seconds."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Why, you'll go to her of course. You'll be able to see her. To touch her," the demon started licking his lips. "To love her."

Although the demon was creeping him out, Al would be lying if he said it didn't sound appealing.

"So, all I have to do is become the general for Hell's army?" he asked.

"That's all. And when we win, and Satan overthrows Heaven, you'll be a prince. Hell's Jesus."

A contract appears before the demon. At the bottom was a dotted line.

"Cliché much," Al says rolling his eyes. "Do you have a pen?"

"Just touch it," the demon said, pretty much shaking from excitement.

Al reached for it, then stopped. He really should read this first. Then, the demon moves the paper, making it touch Al's finger. Al looked in surprise as his name carved itself into the paper on the dotted line.

"What the fuck, fucker?!" Al asked incredulous.

"See you later, Spawn," the demon said as a large hole seemingly made from fire and brimstone formed behind him, sucking him.

"Wa -wait," Al stammered, trying not to be sucked in. "If you're not Satan, who are you?"

"I'm Malebolgia, Spawn," the demon said, then added. "Your master."

Upon hearing that, Al flew backwards into the hole, not knowing what was going to happen. He did have a feeling though. He'd just left one hell...

...and was probably about to step into another one.

_**...**_

_Al Simmons: A buff black guy. (Black power!) About 6'1. Black hair (duh.)_

_Let me just say that this chapter is short, because it's just the intro. More stuff happens later. I think I'm going to introduce Angela in this fanfiction (I know I'm going to introduce at some point, but these New World stories are set up as books, so I don't know if it'll be in this one, or the next). _

_I'm a teenager, so I have a short attention span, so this probably won't be updated regularly. Okay, it won't. Plus, I'm taking English Honor's next year, so I have to read this book over the summer and do a report on it. It's some book about a peal or something by a guy named Steinbeck, I think. I don't know, I'll probably end up losing the book they gave me. (Have you noticed teachers always give out boring books about kids finding pearls, and nothing like Percy Jackson? Like, Jesus Christ.)_

_I realize now you don't care, and I'm rambling on. Till next time._

_-Brad._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_I'm back on this story. Finally. I don't know how frequently I'll update this, but it's not gonna be as bad a it was last time._

_Thanks to summerflower13 for reviewing. Honestly, you reminded me this story even existed. So thanks for that._

_Thanks to __Ikaruga Katsuragi-Hibari for favoriting and following this story and favoriting and following me._

_Thanks to Redeemer9855 for favoriting and following this story._

_Thanks to C8lyn2000 for favoriting Deadpool: New World._

_And just remember you guys, this story is rated M._

_You've been warned._

* * *

"Oh fuck!" the man said as sweat bore from all over his body.

The hot redhead continued up and down on his..."rod"...she moved her hips like she was a professional, moving in ways to get the most pleasure out of the man.

"O -oh shit!" he yelled, as the woman made no sound whatsoever. "You're so tight!"

She still made no sound.

"I'm...I'm gonna..." the man said before he released his breathe, and she crawled off of him.

Immediately, she went to putting on her clothes, which consisted of a sweater and some jeans. She also put on a necklace around her neck which looked like a Spider-Man mask, except in green with two eyes. She let her long red hair run down to her curves, which were perfectly designed like she was...well, an angel.

"Lady...damn, you are a fucking machine," the man said as he wiped the sweat off himself. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"Heaven," she said simply.

"Yeah, I'd bet." he said as he dug in his pocket. "Uh, how much I owe you?"

"Excuse me?" the redhead said, not so much anger, but annoyance on her face.

"Oh. Oh my...sorry."

"Don't be," she said as she put her hand on the doorknob. "I'll take it as a complement."

"Wait! Wait baby, just tell me your name."

"Don't call me baby when you can't even succeed in giving me any kind of pleasure," the woman said. "My name is Angela."

As she left, the man rolled over on his back looking up to the sky. He didn't even care if she didn't like it, that was the best sex of his life.

* * *

_Ugh, why do mortal men have to be such asses?!_

Angela walked down the road, ignoring the men and occasional woman who looked at her as she walked by. It's not like she didn't like the looks, but they were annoying. None of the mortals were able to satisfy her. Since there were no men on Heaven, sometimes she had to switch "to the other side." She often made trips to Paradise Island. The things that woman Diana could do...damn. She definitely deserved the name Won...

_Angela, come in. Are you there?_

The voice was coming from her mind, but Angela put a cellphone to her ear so nobody would think she was insane. "What is it Mary?"

_Oh, you put your phone to your ear. That's smart. I never understood why people in movies always just walk around yelling at their head and making everyone think they belong in Arkham or something. I mean, that is such a troope that doesn't make any sense to..._

"Mary," Angela said, rubbing her forehead. "I'm getting a migraine."

_Oh. Right, _the voice of Mary said into her head. _Sorry. The reason I called..._

"You mean the reason you're invading my personal thoughts."

_Jeez, what's got your thong in a bunch?_

"It...it's not a thong!" Angela said defensively, but secretly blushing. "It's armor."

_Armor that only covers your boobs and your ass_? _That's not armor Angela, that's the world's most complicated bikini._

"You_..._you were calling for something?!" Angela asked, her face now as red as her hair.

_Oh right, the Spawn is back._

"WHAT?!" Angela said, dropping her phone, not caring what people thought anymore. "WHAT THE ASGARD IS YOUR PROBLEM MARY?!"

_Jeez, sorry Angie. I didn't know you'd get all Nixon on me._

"My whole purpose in life is the hunting of the Hellspawn Mary," Angela said, her anger encompassing her mind. "How could you possibly think that's _not _important."

_We were having girl time..._Mary echoed, sounding disappointed.

"Mary," Angela said. "Where the fuck is the Hellspawn?"

* * *

"Welcome to Simmonsville Major Vale," Jason Wynn said to the older man next to him.

Major Vale was a man with gray hair and dressed in a green military uniform, decorated to show his position as major. He had a face that hardly showed any reaction, as he was ready for business.

Jason Wynn was different from that, to say the least. While Major Vale's face was blank, and affirmative, Jason's face had this arrogance to it that just struck you as a grade A asshole. He was wearing a tuxedo with the tie half on, and a glass of scotch in his hand.

"What the hell Jason?" Major Vale said, a look of anger on his face. "I thought you said you had something to show me!"

"In case you haven't noticed Vale," Jason said, motioning to the city in front of them. "There's a whole fucking town standing in front of you."

And there was.

A large town sat in the valley in front of them, composed of run down buildings and stores. In the center was a large brick church that could be seen all over. It was a sight to be seen.

But it wasn't what Major Vale wanted.

"I can see it's a fucking town Wynn," Major Vale snapped. "But I don't pay you to build towns."

"Actually, you _don't _pay me _Major,_" Wynn said. "I get paid by government taxes."

"Yeah, well I pay my fucking taxes, ergo, I pay _you_," Vale said. "And why do you say Major like it's an insult?"

"No reason," Wynn said as he started to walk away. "Be right back."

When he came back, Jason had a cage in his hand. One that held a pit bull that was angry, foaming at the mouth, and looking like it was ready to maul.

"What the hell Jason?" Major Vale asked as Wynn put the cage on the ground. "Don't let that fucking thing out!"

"Shut up," Jason said as he opened the cage, allowing the dog to come out. The dog quickly ran away from them, towards the town below them.

"What did you _do_?" Vale asked.

Jason held out some binoculars to Vale, a smirk on his face. "Showing you what you _really _came to see."

Major Vale put the binoculars to his eyes, looking down towards the valley that held "Simmonsville." The pit bull ran at the town, at full speed. Once it entered the perimeter of the city, the pavement of the city _rose. _It was like a pink and brown goo, rising up until it was the shape of large Komodo dragons, causing the dog to stop. After the dog regained its composure, it started barking ferociously at the goo monsters. That is, until they bit into it, ripping it apart and causing blood and guts to fly everywhere. They eventually lick up the blood of the dog until there is nothing left, then they sinker back into the city, leaving no trace of themselves, or the dog.

"What...the fuck...was that?" Vale asked, barely getting it out.

"Psychoplasm," Wynn said with one of those trademarked overconfident smiles he was famous for. "You see, I met with one of the generals of Hell..."

"You did _what?_"

"Let me finish," Wynn said. "So, he said he would give me access to the psychoplasm if I helped him find a general for his army. So, I had Al Simmons killed."

"Al Simmons?!" Vale asked, incredulous. "He was one of your best agents!"

"He _was, _but that was before he started asking too many questions," Wynn said like he wasn't talking about a man's death. "I had Chapel do the job."

"You're a sick bastard." Vale said. "Simmons and Chapel were friends."

"That's what made it so fun." Wynn said as they started their way back to the plane.

"So before you go into detail, and I mean _very descriptive _detail," Vale said. "Are you sure Al Simmons is dead? Maybe he and Chapel faked it."

"The dead body says otherwise," Wynn said. "Trust me, Al Simmons is dead."

* * *

Al Simmons was _alive._ Or, at least, he seemed alive.

He was standing on top of a large church, looking out over the city. He felt...odd. Like there was something inside of him...something bright.

Something _evil_.

"That's a bit of an understatement there Spawn," a voice said as it came behind him. "Hell is your father after all."

Al turned around and saw probably the strangest sight he'd seen _yet. _A clown. Not one of those circus clowns that makes people laugh, no a straight up Chuckie/Ronald McDonald creepy as all hell clowns that you suspected touched little boys and girls. He was short, fat, and had stringy white hair coming from both sides of his head with nothing on the top, and blue and white makeup around his eyes that pulled together his creepy clown look perfectly.

"What did you call me?" Al asked as the clown waddled up to him.

"That's what grabbed your attention, huh?" the clown asked, obviously amused. "Not how I called you the son of hell, or how I knew what you were thinking about?"

"What. Did you. Call me?" Al asked again, this time aggravated. Although he was curious about those other things, he felt like that name he called him meant something.

"I called you Spawn," the clown said. "Or Hellspawn, or Hell's pawn. Whichever you prefer."

"What does that mean?" Al asked.

"Don't you remember your deal, Spawn? How you promised to be the general of the army of Hell?"

At first, Al thought the man was crazy. Then, memories started to burn themselves themselves into his mind.

_"I'm offering you a job, Al. I want you to be a general, commanding Hell's army," the demon said, smiling even wider. "The Hellspawn."_

Then he remembered. He had died. Now he was back. He could see Wanda again. He could...

"Keep it in your pants Spawn," the clown said. "You still got a lot to learn first."

"And who are you supposed to be?"

"Me?" the clown said, his smile getting larger. "I'm the Violator! Your new BFF forever!"

"Like hell." Al said as he turned around to leave.

"Yes, exactly!" the Violator said as he started to follow.

"Stop following me!" Al said, snapping. "I...have to be somewhere."

"Before you go fuck Wanda, Spawn," the Violator said. "You might wanna look in the mirror."

Seemingly out of nowhere, Violator pulled out a mirror, which Al reluctantly snatched away. Looking in the mirror, he saw...no.

_No. No, no, no, no, __**no!**_

Al's face. It...it was...destroyed. His face was covered in large amounts of scar tissue to the point that he was unrecognizable. His eyes were glowing green, and his body was in some strange black and white costume with chains swarming around him. But his face. His _face._

"Oh come on, Hellspawns don't cry!" Violator said as he saw Al's tears form at the corner of his green eyes.

"Wanda...she won't even recognize me!" Al yelled.

"So you can't fuck her," Violator said. "Worse things have..."

"**It's not all about sex!**" Al yelled as he pinned the Violator to a wall by his neck. "**She's the goddamned love of my life!**"

"Watch it Al," Violator said, motioning towards the hand he was using to pin him. "You reeeealy don't wanna do that."

Al then noticed that Violator's eyes were glowing yellow. He then felt like it probably wasn't the best idea to test the clown. He let him go.

"Good boy," Violator said, rubbing his chubby neck. "Now, let's talk about this whole Wanda thing."

"What are you talking about?"

"You got powers Spawn. You can do just about _anything_. Including, change your face."

"Change my face? You're crazy."

"Maybe so," Violator said. "But I'm the only one who can help you fu...see Wanda."

"...okay, how does this work?"

"Just will it. Just _want _to change your face, and you will."

Al willed. He willed with every fiber of his being that he could change his face back to normal. And...

Nothing happened.

"It...it's not working." Al said.

"Think about Wanda," Violator said. "Think about seeing her again. About how much you love her."

Al thought of Wanda. He thought of her beautiful face, her long brown hair, her laugh, her crying, he remembered everything about her. He remembered their wedding day. He remembered how beautiful she looked, how she laughed when her grandmother complained about how she didn't take his last name, how she cried when he put the ring on her finger. How she has buried his face in the cake and how they started a cake food fight between all the guests. He remembered how much he loved her, and how much he wanted to see her again.

And then he felt the change. He felt a strange tingling all throughout his body, and saw that his skin had started to glow a bright green. Then it stopped.

"Ya look like a million bucks Al," Violator said, handing him the mirror.

Al looked in the mirror, but he didn't see himself. If he looked like anyone, it was Ryan Reynolds. He was handsome, but he wasn't _him._

"What the hell?" Al asked, seeing his appearance.

"Well, you can't change into yourself dummy," Violator said. "It was part of the contract."

"I didn't read the contract!"

"Well, beggars and choosers and all that."

And Al knew he was right. At least he wasn't trapped with the scarred face anymore. He made a deal with hell. This was probably as good as it was gonna get. But none of that mattered now.

He had to go see Wanda.

* * *

_I should not be doing this._

Al stood against the tree that sat across the street of his and Wanda's house. They had both paid for it together, planning to raise a family in it. He was currently thinking of a way to tell Wanda that he was her dead husband. Then, a car pulled up outside. It was Terry Fitzgerald's car.

_Oh my god, Terry. _Al thought. His best friend, and best man, Terry and Al had been practically brothers for years. He was just about ready to walk over and say something before...she walked out.

Wanda Blake, the love of his life, stepped out of the house, looking just as beautiful as she had the last time he saw her.

_She cut her hair._

She had always said that she wanted to cut her hair, but Al had always told her that he liked it long on her. She must've never done it for him. Now, seeing her, he thought that she looked just like Halle Berry. If anything, she was even _more _beautiful, if that was even possible. More confident.

He then realized that he was getting up. He was going to walk over there, he was going to kiss her, and she would recognize that kiss, and recognize him, and they would all sit down and have a beer and...

He stopped once he saw Wanda and Terry kiss.

Wanda. His wife.

And Terry. His best friend.

_Kissing._

And this was more than just a friendly kiss between friends. No, there was tongue involved. Al didn't know what to do.

"Daddy! Daddy!" a little voice called out.

_Oh no._ Al thought in agony. _Oh God, please no._

Out of the house, ran a little girl with obvious energy. She laughed and ran to Terry and hugged him.

She looked like Wanda.

Al cried. He fell down and he cried. His eyes stung. His chest hurt. The pain he felt was worse than his actual death. He wanted to die. Again.

"I'm just stopping by Cyan," he heard Terry say. "I gotta head back to work now."

"But daddy...!"

"Not buts Cyan," Terry said as he got on his knee to her level. "You like pizza, right?"

"I guess," the little girl, apparently named Cyan, said pouting.

"Well, daddy's gotta go to work so he can buy pizza," Terry said.

"Okay," Cyan said still sad, until she suddenly perked up. "So we can have pizza?"

"Sure sweetie," Terry said as he walked back to his car. "Pepperoni on me."

And with that, he got in his car and drove away.

Al didn't belong here. He didn't know how, but Wanda had moved on from him in a matter of days and...and had a baby? No, something wasn't adding up. He'd have to ask the Violator about this.

"Cyan, come back." Wanda called out as the little girl wandered out in the road, apparently following a butterfly. The little girl didn't listen however, as she kept out, not noticing a car barreling towards her. Al looked at the driver, and noticed they were on their phone, completely unaware. "Cyan!" Wanda yelled out.

On instinct, Al rushed out and picked Cyan up, jumping to the sidewalk next to Wanda. He placed her down, trying to avoid looking at Wanda.

"Oh my god Cyan," Wanda said, bending down. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

"The butterfly mommy...," Cyan started in defense.

"Go to the house!" Wanda snapped at the little girl, who ran into the house in fear.

Wanda turned and looked up at Al with those big brown eyes he'd always loved. He wanted to say something. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, even if she wouldn't understand. Then, she pulled him into a hug. Surprised, he didn't react.

She had recognized him, Al thought. She had looked into his eyes and saw him for who he was not what he looked like, and they would be together again, and they would talk, and laugh, and...

"Thank you for saving my baby."

_Oh._

She didn't recognize him, she was showing gratitude for what he did.

Wanda stepped away from him, wiping a tear from her eye. "Do you want to come in? I could make you coffee or something."

Probably a little too fast, he responded. "Yes. Yes, I'd like that a lot."

She walked towards the door, motioning for him to follow.

He did.

He walked in and was hit by a wave of nostalgia. The place looked the same as when he left it, albeit minus a few details. For one thing, all the pictures of him and Wanda were gonna, replaced by pictures of Cyan and Terry.

"I know the house is a little of a mess," Wanda said, picking up some papers scattered around. "You can just have a seat there." She said, motioning to a small table by the kitchen.

He sat down. She soon came out with two cups of coffee.

"So, uh, I realized I invited you into my house when I don't even know your name," she said, sitting down.

"Al," Al started, before stopping himself. "Um, Albert Reynolds."

"Albert," Wanda repeated.

"Or just Al."

"Al," Wanda said, this time a little sadness to her voice. "So, um, what are you doing across the street Al? I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"I was stalking you," Al said. "I'm gonna murder you all in your sleep."

Wanda gave him a weird look.

"I'm kidding," Al said, earning a relived look from Wanda. "No, uh, I use to live here. In this neighborhood. So, I was just...reminiscing."

"Oh okay. Well, I'm very glad that you did."

"I am too."

"So, what do you do?"

"I guess I'm, uh, between jobs right now. How about you?"

"I'm a lawyer."

"Really?" Al asked and smiled. She always wanted to be a lawyer. "That's...that's amazing."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Al said. "But, who cares what I think, right? You...you don't even know me."

"Ah, I don't know," Wanda said smiling. "You seem like an all right guy, Al."

"I pride myself on my alrightness."

"I bet," Wanda said. "Well, I'd better go make sure Cyan isn't too shaken up. Thank you again."

"Oh okay," Al said standing up. "I'll, uh, I'll show myself out."

"Okay," Wanda said.

"Maybe I'll, uh, see you again sometime?"

"Sure," Wanda said with a smile. It wasn't the same smile that she once showed Al back when he was alive. She was just being friendly.

Al got up and watched her as she left the room. He just wanted to call out to her. To wrap her in his arms. To laugh and talk like they used to do. Then Al looked at the pictures of her and Terry. She looked...so happy. There was no way...there was no way he could interfere with that. He couldn't.

So he just walked out the door and closed it behind him. And then he kept walking. He kept walking in a straight line and never stopped walking. It wasn't long until he wasn't even sure where he was anymore. Just some alleyway in the city.

"Well, how'd it go Spawn?" the Violator walked out from behind and corner, his face full with a smile.

"Don't call me that," Al said. "And it didn't go so well."

"Aw, and whys that pal?"

"Wanda, she was...," he started before stopping. "How long have I been dead?"

"Al, I don't think..."

**"How long was I dead?!"**

"...five years."

"Five years?!"

"The world's been changing Al," the Violator said. "Now there's teenagers walking on walls and guys running around shooting green arrows at each other. It's the age of superheroes my tormented friend, and now you're one of them!"

"I'm...I'm what?" Al asked. "I'm no hero."

"Sure ya are," Violator said. "Back when's you was alive, you stopped that group of mercenaries from killing that village. Remember that?"

Al said nothing.

"And besides," Violator said. "You's still gotta find out who popped ya. If it wasn't for them, Wanda would still be yours, right?"

"Right," Al said. "You're right."

"So why not go a little bat shit crazy and look for some answers, eh?"

"Hell yeah."

* * *

"All's I'm sayin' is, ya don't get where you get without cracking a few eggs y'know?"

Two security guards sat in the large metal room, bored. Only a few select people even knew this room _existed, _let alone where it was. That meant, a lot of boring nights doing nothing but talking.

"Actually I don't know," the other guard said, annoyed. "Why can't you start talking like a normal person?"

"Why can't you start pleasurin' your wife, so I don't gotta do it for ya?"

"...fuck you."

"Too late, Rebecca already did."

"Dude, I freakin' hate you, man."

Unbeknownst to the guards, two long chains slid down the walls, until they wrapped around their necks, choking them. The chains kept pulling until the guards stopped moving.

Spawn dropped from the ceiling and walked towards the back, where a large door stood with a small keypad on it. He typed in a few numbers, until I opened, revealing loads and loads of ammunition. Spawn smiled under his mask.

Soon, he stepped out, looking like a comic book character from the 90's, with big guns and big pouches. Al Simmons was going to get answers. And he was going to get them the only way he knew how...

_**Violently...**_


End file.
